The Villainess's Reputation [Kingdom Building]

Eastern Beach, Kim Island, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

John climbed halfway from the trench, ears ringing. His face was covered in soot, and a gash dripped blood down the side of his jaw. He looked toward the sea again, eyes narrowing.

"They've started using fire spells..." he growled.

He pulled himself to his feet, spit into the sand, and grabbed his command whistle.

"All units, prepare for wave two! We're not done yet!" From behind him, soldiers stiffened to attention. Kim City's coastal defenders: tanned, tired, and soaked in smoke, looked to their vice-captain with unwavering focus.

John didn't pause. He slung his crossbow from his back and checked its bolts with quick, practiced hands. "They're using fire spells now," he repeated, louder, so the frontline squads could hear. "That means they're trying to break through before their mana runs dry. This is their push. Hold the line."

Suddenly, the new volley of ballista fire surged towards the fog—sharper, more erratic than before..

John's eyes narrowed. "Cease fire!" he ordered abruptly. "Hold the steam boats as well! No more launches!"

Confusion flickered through the trenches.

"What?" one of his second in command asked. "Vice-Captain, they're pressing in!"

"I said cease fire!" John barked, his voice sharp as a whip. "Let them settle. Let them reform their ranks. They think we're overextending. Let them believe it."

His glare was enough to silence any more doubts.

"We'll hit them again, but when they're most vulnerable," he muttered. "Let them gather for their next push. Then we drown them."

Western Beach, Kim Island, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

Dame Aisha stood still, hand resting on the hilt of her saber. Her face showed no satisfaction, no relief. Only focus.

Behind her, officers waited silently, watching her with respect and tension. The steam-powered boats had just finished their third run, wreaking havoc on the enemy's formations inside the fog.

She nodded once to her adjutant.

"Enough. Halt the next wave. Let them feel the lull," she said, turning her gaze back toward the mist. "Then ready the next strike. This time, I want a squad prepared to launch from behind the fog, armed with the rapid-fire crossbows and wielded ballistas."

Her second in command blinked. "A forward strike unit, Dame Aisha?"

She gave him a curt nod. "Yes. A fast one. They'll sail low and hug the shoreline. From behind the fog, they'll flank the flanks. Let them fire until their bolts run dry. Then they'll retreat and vanish."

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She drew her saber slowly, its steel gleaming in the weak light. Her voice dropped to a whisper, hard and sharp.

"They may never see their enemy's face… but they'll know who took the breath from their lungs."

Behind her, the soldiers moved like clockwork. Orders were relayed, weapons loaded, boats prepared. The Western Beach was not just holding, it was preparing to strike with deadly precision.

And Dame Aisha stood at its center, immovable as the stone cliffs that shadowed her.

Commanding Ship, Imperial Navy Fleet, Southern Port of Kim City

Fleet Commander Lucas Hilos gripped the railing of the command ship, his knuckles white against the polished brass. The sea before them roiled with the churn of oars. Dozens of smaller boats, packed with armored knights and soldiers, launched from every side, pushing through the fog with coordinated force. The sharp rhythm of the oars slapped against the tide, breaking the water into a hundred frantic ripples.

They moved in disciplined lines, fanning out in waves like darts hurled toward an invisible target.

Yet still, the fog held.

A wall of thick mist clung to the water's surface like an unnatural veil. Visibility was minimal. The enemy was hidden. Their destination was obscured. And Lucas hated it.

He narrowed his eyes, voice rising with authority. "Mages! Form up! They're using some kind of conjured smokescreen. Blow it back! I want a full-field wind spell, strong enough to tear it apart!"

"We're already preparing, Commander!" one of the head mages shouted, sweat glistening on his brow as he and the others began synchronizing their elemental petals. The air around them crackled, petals from wind-aligned flowers swirling as glyphs formed in the space between their hands.

Before the spell could be completed, footsteps echoed on the deck.

A nobleman emerged from the main cabin, his boots striking the polished wood with a sense of hurried purpose. His fine coat was wrinkled from the sea's damp air, and his powdered hair had come slightly undone. He looked pale, more from fear than seasickness.

Lucas turned sharply. "Lord Edward, please, return to your cabin," he said, holding up a hand as he stepped toward the man. "It isn't safe here. We're in the middle of a battle—"

The noble interrupted him, voice cracking as he blurted out, "Prince Nolan is dead!" The words fell like a thunderclap.

Everything stopped.

The mages faltered mid-incantation. Officers turned. Even the waves seemed to hush for a moment.

Lucas's expression darkened. "What?"

Edward stumbled forward, face ashen. "We just received the message, it came through a magical transmission spell from the reserve fleet. His flagship… it was destroyed. They found no survivors from his deck. His crest was recovered, burned, but still recognizable."

Lucas's jaw tightened. He looked away for a moment, processing the news, then glanced toward the fog. The boats had disappeared into it now, swallowed whole.

"Are you certain?" he asked quietly. Edward nodded. "The seal was authenticated. There's no doubt."

For the briefest moment, Lucas felt the battle shift, not on the field, but in its meaning.

The Empire had lost a prince.

And not just any prince. Nolan, the eldest of the imperial siblings, the one who was supposed to crush Kim Dukedom beneath his heel and return in triumph.

Now, he is gone, his ambition drowned in the sea.

Lucas straightened, burying the shock behind hardened eyes. "Then we fight harder," he said coldly, calculating his moves, if he let this chance go he would never have another chance as good as this at military achievement. "The Empire doesn't retreat over one death, even an Imperial one."

"But—" Edward began."No!" Lucas snapped. "We press forward. If we fall back now, it will be more than Nolan who dies today. The political blow alone will fracture the Imperial Court. Every noble watching this campaign will side with her highness and it will be the end for you my lord!."

He turned back to the sea.

"Blow the fog apart," he ordered the mages, voice as cold and clear as a blade. "And prepare for the second wave of boats!"